Crossing the Threshold

 
 
 
At the crossroads at midnight
My lady did swear
That she must be alone
To face up to her demons
 
“Please understand that I must
be aware of just who I am
and where I’ve come from.”
 
I sat by the bridge
as she set forth her tools,
her sorcerer lore, her alchemic runes
So she’d know who to honor, to break
and to blame
What she’d been made for,
her journey, her truth.
 
At the crossroads, past midnight,
just before dawn
My lady thrice nodded and
stamped out her flames.
She beckoned I join her out on the meadow
to kiss and rejoice
and reveal our true names.
.
.
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